Thursday 19th October
Day 11, beginning of Week Two
Days 8-10 we were back in Tirana, catching up with Ebony and other friends and ex-colleagues. We made some adjustments to our gear and stocked up on resources, then headed back out.
After having both of us been in Tirana (and its county outskirts) for more than a month, we’re finally leaving the city, possibly for good. This time we just bolted it south, direction Vlore, gateway to the Albanian Riviera, 180km to the south. To take a faster route than before, we decided to finally cycle the highway we’d managed so long avoiding. It was wide and there were surprisingly few cars on it. Makes sense, considering the price of gas is the same here as in Europe.
A new road took us into the next valley over, one big step deeper into this Tirana County’s mountaneous terrain. A short detour off this reasonably-main road would take us to a waterfall we’d wanted to visit last week. But the road became steeper, and quickly its condition deteriorated.
At first, I could manage, but eventually the legs gave in. I hadn’t expected such a challenge today, and had already cycled the earlier roads at pace enough to impress the lifelong cyclist in Zak. I developed technique to wrestle down the head of the rear-heavy beast, but on the steepest bits the beast was stronger than me. Pushing it was as difficult as riding. After trying some different strategies to progress, including Zak helping to ram my back up the hills, he took a turn on my bike, and was blown away by its ridiculous instability. Tomorrow I’ll pack some weight on the front.
We haven’t reached our waterfall yet, just 1km sky - but here’s a gorgeous spot to camp in the olive gardens, and I’m too exhausted to be interested in gambling against the dying light.
Friday 20th October
After hiking down for a swim in the waterfall, we could have turned back and ridden out the way we came. Or, we could go deeper into the mountains, and try to find another way out.
As expected, the path grew steeper, and wilder in condition. Rocky, rugged and overgrown. We pushed our bikes more than we rode, oftentimes both pushing one bike up the most challenging parts of the “road”, according to Google maps. The locals ride this road on donkeys and dirt bikes.
I had to rewire how I thought about the challenge. Sure, I’m reasonably fit and strong, but I’m a novice when it comes to cycle touring, and hadn’t expected such difficult challenge. I’d shifted some weight to the front of the bike which seemed to calm the beast, but couldn’t solve these demonous hills. I was becoming increasingly frustrated with the absurd difficulty. But after realizing I could simply treat this like one of my strenuous hikes - but instead of carrying it, you awkwardly push your luggage uphill - I began to appreciate the beauty of the challenge. We also had some brief, beautiful downhills today, and tomorrow we’re formally descending.
We stopped to chat with a lone farmer, who offered us some pomegranites. Unbeknownst to him, we’d just demolished three, the only food we ate during the day. We’d held off a formal meal, with promise of finding bread in the upcoming town.
Bread, we found. We encountered the town, a village consisting of a few houses, families, poultry and land. We chatted with some locals, seeking a campsite for the night. Before departing they offered us two warm buns, topped with fried egg and sheep cheese.
Tonight I have what I call a “wild hang”. Finding a spot when there’s only shrubs usually requires creativity. In the photo below, the left strap is extended just as long as the right - it’s hidden in the bushes. I’ve never spanned the full length of both straps before. Fingers crossed we hold through the nights.
Saturday 21st October
I’ve fallen in love with downhill biking. I always knew I would. So much fucking fun. I’ll probably write more about it another time.
Tonight though, the flickering in the sky is back. We’re on a farm in the valley toward Berat, but this time we have no animals. I can’t be bothered with this wild hang tonight. Though, if I ever have to, I’ve come up with an idea for how to hang a hammock within bamboo trees that’s probably quite dangerous.
Last night, I hadn’t been able to hang high enough, because there wasn’t any higher in the rocky shrubs to tie the hammock’s long anchors to. I’d slept with the side of my bottom nudging the ground. This happens occasionally when the trees are a bit too close together, or if one of them is flexing too much. It typically drops in height zero to five inches during the night, depending on the flex of the trees it’s supported by.
Tonight, one end was perfectly fine, tied high to a thick tree trunk. The other, looped and cranked tight around a large bunch of bamboo trees. I could crank my straps with all my body weight, and use that tension to hold the trees in a bunch, to pull them backwards from their resting position. The hammock wasn’t heavy enough on it’s own to hold the tension in place, and the bamboo trees bent and stretched the hammock in the opposing direction. But when I’d sit in it, my weight was enough to bend fifteen bamboo trees toward me, losing all of the tension in the hammock. I failed with three methods to hold the tension in place. One method snapped a bamboo tree in half. All methods ended with my bum eventually touching the ground. Though I still like it, the resulting hang is not particularly comfortable. If I had a rope strong enough I could first anchor the bamboo anchor the bamboo in place, in the other direction, cranking it similarly to my hammock, but in the other direction and to the ground. Failure would be potentially sudden and catastrophic.
Anyway, my bottom’s nudging the ground again. Under normal circumstances I wouldn’t be too worried; the fabric is shielded from the ground by my insulating layer, and the material is easily strong enough to endure a lack of tension. But now, the stitching on my hammock’s enormous repair is starting to show further signs of failure. And when it gets a little worse than this, any repairs will become substantially more difficult.
I’ve made the decision to sleep on the ground, a possibility I had considered when I’d chosen this ridiculous spot. In the dark I demonstrated for Zak how to lower the tarpaulin; efficiently and methodically tying and untying knots around bushy bamboo trees, dodging thorns with my hands and bare feet, and pitching a surprisingly perfect tarp setup, adjusted only slightly from where my hammock hung.
It’s something Zak’s been really interested in, tarp camping. I don’t really know why he doesn’t want to swap though; I have offered. I think he really doesn’t like the idea of bugs. I don’t mind.
Wednesday 25th October
Days 14-17
I haven’t written much these last days, and I probably never will. I hope you enjoy the photos.
We reached Berat, gorgeous city, and decided to stay two nights. I was reasonably antisocial, working on my laptop. We had souvlaki (like kebab) twice a day and made friends with all the volunteers working in the hostel.
On Tuesday we cycled out of Berat through pretty patchwork farmland, the road opened to stunning views of what awaits, of what the locals call The Accursed Moutanins. By now I’m powering up hills; they feel like less of a challenge. We camped in an olive grove on the side of a mountain.
Today we continued further south, entering Tomorri Mountain National Park in the rain. This must be the most beautiful mountaineous region I’ve seen since the Austrian Alps, and the downhill cycles through the forests gave us a huge rush. We’re headed to camp at a waterfall, hidden at the base of these Accursed Mountains.
